Pages

Thursday, June 7, 2012

E.H.U.D.: Part 1, Chapter 3

“Who?” John
asked, not looking away from the landscape rushing past the train.

“You know,
‘They.’ The government, the military-industrial complex, the
scary people upstairs.”

John pulled away
from the window and looked at his niece. “Okay, so what are the
scary people upstairs lying about?”

“The thing
earlier. The explosion we felt.” She gestured to the screen in
her lap.

John held out his
hand and Rachel surrendered the screen.

He scanned through
the brief news story. D.C. emergency crews were doing rescue work on
a collapsed metro tunnel. So far, they had rescued twenty-three
people, recovered sixty-eight bodies, and estimated that at least
another hundred people remained buried in the rubble. The mayor’s
office said that initial investigations pointed to an explosion
caused by a leaky gas main somewhere inside the tunnels, itself a
sign of the aging of the metro system.

Despite Rachel’s
insistence on lies, it all seemed to make sense.

John returned the
screen. “What makes you think they’re lying?”

“It’s only been
two hours since the explosion. If it really was a gas leak, they
wouldn’t know that yet, they would say they were still looking into
it. An answer this fast means cover-up.”

“Well, aren’t
you the little conspiracy nut. Okay, what about 9-11? They had that
figured out pretty fast.”

Rachel glanced down
at her shoes. “That one was different; they saw the fucking planes
go in.”

John couldn’t
help but smile. The light-hearted arguing between father and
daughter was so… normal. It made him feel like he was really alive
again.

Then the feeling
ended as the argument began to get fierce.

“Mom never got up
my ass about the way I talk.”

“That’s cause
mom never got up you’re ass about anything. And maybe if she had,
you’d be doing better in school and not hanging around with Wayne.”

“Maybe if you had
listened to her every once in a while, you’d still be married.”

“Hey! Leave me
out of this!”

“Why?! You
didn’t leave me out of it!”

“She was leaving
you at home and going to bars! You had to be brought into it!”

Heads began to turn
in their direction, and Reggie must have noticed. “I won’t be a
part of this childishness.” He stood and stalked off to another
part of the train.

“Fuck you!”
Rachel called after him. She collapsed back in her chair and sighed.

For a while, the
sounds of the train reigned.

“Um…” John
cleared his throat. “I know it’s none of my business, but is
there anything you want to talk about?”

“You’re right;
it’s not your business, so no.”

“Well… How’s
school going?”

Rachel looked out
the window. “Do you really care, or are you just making small
talk?”

“Both?” John
ventured.

Rachel remained
silent for a moment, then shrugged. “The year’s almost over.
Mostly, it sucks. I’m failing math, I’m not doing much better in
science or English. French is fun but pretty useless. I like
Civinomics, though; I’m doing good in that. I’m in the advanced
class.”

“Civinomics?”

“Yeah, I guess
you wouldn’t know about that. It’s pretty new. It’s kind of a
cross between economics and civics… wow, that sounds stupid.
Anyway, it’s a study of governments and economic systems, and stuff
like that.”

“Hmm. And are
you looking into this for a career or anything?”

“Yeah. Maybe go
into politics. Be an urban organizer, or a mayor or something like
that.”

“But you’re
failing everything else.”

Rachel stiffened
and folded her arms. “So?”

“Well, if you
want to get into politics, you need to get into college.”

“No, see,
college, and for that matter, the crap I’m learning now is useless.
I’m not going to need algebra or biology to run a city.”

“Look, I know you
don’t want to trust old people like me. But when you hear what I
say, remember that to me, college was just a few years ago. In my
mind I’m not even thirty.”

Rachel nodded.

“Everything
you’re learning now, with the exception of what will actually apply
to your career, is useless crap. But, but, if you want
to get a good job, you need some sort of degree. You can go drinking
and partying all you like, just make sure you get that degree. Just
think of it as a really expensive status symbol that makes the masses
respect you. They probably won’t teach you that in Civinomics, but
the voters are idiots, and if you look good they want you.”

Rachel smiled and
unfolded her arms. “Wow, Uncle John, that was delightfully cynical
of you. And how’d you come to your conclusion?”

“Because I’m a
damn fine architect with a great portfolio. But every job interview
I went to, they checked my degree first.”

Rachel continued to
smile, and John could feel her warming to him.

“So,” John
said, “Tell me more about Civinomics.”

After a short cab
ride from the train station, John and his little entourage stood
staring up at the great gleaming cylinder of Sky Crest Tower. It was
covered completely in silvered windows, which glowed across the whole
spectrum as the sun moved across the sky.

“It looks even
better up close like this,” Rachel said in an awed voice.

“Mmm…” Reggie
grumbled. He wasn’t paying attention to the here-and-now.

Following his fight
with Rachel, Reggie had wandered through the train, sitting in
various seats, locking himself in various bathrooms, always trying to
find some place quiet to think. Eventually he had given up, found a
seat that was at least comfortable, and thought in spite of the
crowded train around him.

He quickly came to
the conclusion that he was mad at Rachel. Angry, incensed, ready to
hit her. But why? Nothing she had said had really hurt him. It was
just a normal argument, yet something, maybe the mention of her
mother, maybe her direct defiance of his will, something had
tweaked him. Maybe it was transference, he thought. Maybe he was
taking his deep-seated and well-deserved anger at her mother and
transferring it to Rachel. He wasn’t really angry at her, he was
just--

She was so much
like her mother!

Once he had finally
managed to calm down, Reggie made his way back to where John and
Rachel were seated, ready to take the first step towards
reconciliation and apologize for bringing up unpleasant memories.

But instead of
finding Rachel engulfed in a deep sulk and John lost in fascination
at the world outside his window, Reggie was surprised to find them
engaged in conversation.

At first he was
pleased. John was reengaging with the world, and Rachel seemed to be
out of her funk, at least temporarily. But the more he watched, the
less pleased he became. Rachel looked so happy, so alive, more so
than she had since before the divorce. It was a change that Reggie
had long hoped to see in his daughter… and here was John,
experiencing it. John, who hadn’t been there for the past decade,
who hadn’t comforted her through the court-ordered loss of a
parent, who hadn’t had to clumsily lead her through a puberty he
could never truly understand—

“C’mon!” John
shouted, interrupting Reggie’s thoughts. “Let’s get in there!”

They stood
spread-out in one of the comfortable elevator cars located around Sky
Crest’s central core. Rachel stood along the back wall, performing
some esoteric teenaged ritual with her palm-top. Reggie stood a few
feet from her, clutching the handrail and staring at the steadily
increasing floor number displayed over the door. John stood in the
exact center of the car, bag of personal belongings at his feet, as
he gleefully flipped through the informational packet he had been
given at the front desk.

“How’d they get
fireplaces in a place like this?” Rachel said, not looking up from
whatever it was she was doing. “I mean, what’d they do with the
smoke?”

John shrugged and
flipped a few more pages. “I dunno. Pump it out through the CMC,
I guess.”

Reggie looked down
from the floor number. “The what now?”

“The central
maintenance core.” John flipped to the middle of the packet and
opened the centerfold. He held it out to Reggie and pointed. “See
here?”

Reggie glanced over
the simplified blueprints and then at the hollow running through the
center of the entire tower.

“The whole
building’s built around this tube. We’re right at the edge of it
with the elevators. All of the pipes, wiring, everything from all
the apartments is run out through here so that they can do
maintenance without going into people’s houses.”

Reggie nodded.
“Interesting.”

“So they’ll
probably have a mass chimney out through the top?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah.”

The elevator
stopped and they filed into a warm beige hall that curved away around
the core.

“Okay, number
five, number five…” John muttered to himself. He stared down at
the blueprints and raised his arm, then swung it to the right. “This
way.”

They circled
half-way around the core and stopped in front of a door. “Aaaand
here it is.” John pressed his thumb to a small black screen on the
door jamb and a moment later the door swung open.

Inside the main
area of the apartment spread out, widening as it approached the
floor-to-ceiling window at the opposite end.

“This is every
dream I’ve ever had come true.”

He walked quickly
to the window and looked at the city below, then turned away and
rushed to the bedroom. “Look at the size of this bed!”

There was a tapping
sound from back in the main area. “And you got wood-floor in the
kitchen.” Reggie said.

“And a damn fine
couch.” There was a muffled thump in the from near the window.

John walked slowly
back into the main area and looked around his new domain. “Fully
furnished… Wow. I’m liking this.”

“Yeah,” Rachel
agreed, lost in the folds of the couch. There was a flurry of
activity and she appeared from behind a bunch of pillows. “As much
as I like it though, I’ve got to go.”

Reggie rushed out
of the bathroom and glared at Rachel. “What?”

“Yeah, Wayne’s
here, I’ve got to go.”

“I guess that’s
your boyfriend.” John said.

Reggie shook his
head. “No. Uh-uh. You’re not going anywhere. We have dinner
with the grandparents tonight.”

“You two are;
I’ve got plans with Wayne tonight.”

“Since when?”

“Since the
elevator. Now if you don’t mind, Wayne’s waiting, and he doesn’t
like to wait.”

Rachel folded her
arms across her chest. “Well, you can just—“ She suddenly
broke into a run and disappeared through the front door. Reggie
rushed after her.

John stood alone in
the middle of the room. He slowly walked to the couch and
disappeared into its folds. Secretly, he was glad that the others
were gone. It was great having his family back… but they scared
him a little.

Reggie returned a
few minutes later and flopped down next to John. “I almost made
it. I got down to the lobby right when she was getting in his car.”

John felt a
brotherly commitment to get involved in this situation, although
another part of him urged him towards apathy. “You wanna talk
about it?” he ventured.

“No. No, you
don’t need to worry about it; you have enough on your plate now
without my problems.”

John looked at
Reggie.

“Okay, yes, fine.
I’m worried about her, okay? I know I’m the one who used to
give mom heart attacks back in the day, so I have no room to talk,
but… Well, I raised her better than this! Her mom, well, her mom
fairly well botched it, but I stuck with it and did the best I could!
Now here she is sleeping around, flunking everything in school—“

“She seems to be
doing well in Civinomics. In fact, she seems to really like it.”

Reggie snorted.
“Yeah, and that’s going to get her real far in life.”

John shrugged.
“Well, look, it’s a starting point at least. You can maybe get
her involved in a government club or something; see if that gets her
more interested in school.

“Yeah, I can see
that…” Reggie shifted and sank further into the couch. “I
mean, architecture got you doing better in math, right?”

“Exactly. So
that’s one problem down. Now, what about Wayne?”

There were several
seconds of stony silence. “Wayne.” Reggie stood and paced
around the room. “Sometimes I think she only dates him to piss me
off. He’s… he’s okay, I guess, but not the kind of guy who’ll
make it in life. I was okay with her seeing him at first; I thought
she’d give up on him in a couple of months. Now they’re sleeping
together! My God. I’m not even sure if that’s legal!”

“How old is he?”

Reggie shrugged.
“His twenties, I think. He’s somewhere around four years older
than her.” He returned to the couch and sat down again. “Am I
over-reacting here? Should I just leave her alone to live her life?”

John pulled his
glasses off and examined them. “Probably. You always hated it
when mom got too hands-on, right?”

Reggie nodded.

“Okay. Let her
live a little.” He put his glasses back on. “But maybe set some
limits with Wayne. He’s way too old for her.”

“Wow, that’s a
little hypocritical of you isn’t it?”

John quirked an
eyebrow.

“I mean, you were
what, five years older than Lucy, right?”

The name swept by
John. “Who?”

Reggie blinked.
“What do you mean, who? Lucy.”

John shook his
head. “Doesn’t ring any bells. I’ve got a ‘Suzanne’
floating around, if that means anything to you.”

“You seriously
don’t know who Lucy is?”

A little bubble of
dread worked its way through John’s body. “No, I don’t.”

“John… Lucy was
your fiancée.”

Pictures floated by
on the screen, a thousand personal moments shared with the whole
world over the internet. In every picture was a young woman: pale,
with dark hair, her face dominated by a curving, elegant nose. In
most pictures, kissing the woman, hugging her, generally being happy
with her… was John.

He sat in front of
the screen next to the fireplace, lazily swirling his fingers to
advance to the next image. Lucy and John: they looked so happy
together. But John didn’t remember any of it.

His parents had
been surprised when they heard this. John had begged Reggie not to
tell anyone about his little memory lapse, but Reggie felt that it
was his duty to do so.

Mother was
concerned, of course. She insisted that John catch the next train
down to Washington and demand an evaluation with his so-called
doctors.

Father, on the
other hand, took a more investigative approach. Did John remember
anything about Lucy? Did he suspect he might have other missing
memories? And, most importantly, did he care that he didn’t
remember Lucy? Maybe he would be happier not remembering a lost
love, another piece of life that had been taken by his accident.

Mother’s sudden
change in tack, from insisting on medical help to insisting on
accepting fate, caused John to question her motives. She tried to
dodge the question, of course, but that just raised other question.

“You knew, didn’t
you? All this time you knew about Lucy and you didn’t bring it up
the whole time I was in the hospital.”

“Weelll… You
didn’t bring it up, and if you didn’t, then I didn’t
feel it was really necessary to bring her up…”

“She was going to
be my wife! My whole life was probably planned around her!”

Father cleared his
throat. “Let me get something straight here. Not only do you not
remember her, you also don’t remember anything to do with her?
Like every memory associated with her has been erased?”

“Yes, she’s
totally gone; what does that have to do with my question?”

Father shrugged.
“Just wanted to know.”

“So back to you
mom; what’s up?”

Mother chewed her
lip for a moment, then glared at John. “Okay, yes; I didn’t
bring her up. I never liked her; I didn’t make that a secret. She
and I just never got along. When you didn’t talk about her,
I figured you had—I don’t want to say forgotten her, and I
certainly didn’t want to bring her back into my life.”

John sat back in
his chair and looked at his little family. Two months with them, and
none of them had brought up this part of his life. He felt
betrayed.

He got up from the
table and walked to the door.

“John!” mother
called. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going
home. I’ll find a bus or something.”

They had all
argued, had all tried to keep him for the rest of the dinner, to
apologize for their lapse in judgment.

Nothing they could
say would keep John in his parent’s house any longer than he needed
to be.

When he had made it
back to his apartment, he had searched for Lucy, based on information
that Reggie had given him on their drive to dinner. The screen
showed a dark-haired young woman, Lucille Dawkins, age thirty-three,
unmarried.

John had found
other pictures, her personal on-line photostream, and there he had
found himself.

But that wasn’t
enough. He didn’t know Lucy, couldn’t miss her. Yet now that he
knew about her, there was a void. He felt connected to her, like she
had a hold on him. He had a commitment to her, and wondered if she
still expected him to honor it.

He gestured for the
photostream to minimize, then selected the screen’s phone icon.

Doubts arose just
before John connected the call. Should he really try to dredge up
the past like this? As far as Lucy knew, John was dead. As far as
John knew, Lucy didn’t even exist.

Except…

Except now he knew.
He didn’t remember, but he knew. It was like a nervous habit
someone had pointed out: he wasn’t aware that he did it, but he
would now be constantly self-conscious of it. If he didn’t call,
the thought of Lucy would gnaw at the back of his mind, and he would
always wonder what they might have had together, did have
together.

Before he could
consider it further, he connected the call.

Four rings and
then: “Hello?”

“Lucy?”
Despite his best efforts, his voice squeaked.

“This is she.
Who’s calling?”

Everything in John
told him to disconnect; he was trespassing in places he no longer
belonged. “This is John.”

“John who?”
She sounded distracted.

John’s throat
tightened.

“Hello?”

“Um… This—This
is John Don… Donal—“

“I’m sorry, but
I’m really busy right now. If you could call back later—“

“This is John
Donalson!” he almost yelled, trying to get his name out.

There was silence
on the other end.

“Hello?” John
ventured.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

There was another
long silence. “Is this really John Donalson?”

She seemed to be
coming around; good. “Yeah, I’m really John.”

“Listen, you
fucker,” she hissed, “you might think this is funny, but I don’t.
And I don’t need to call the police over this, because my
boyfriend’s here, and he’s a cop, but I guess you already know
that if you’ve gone through the trouble of—“

“Lucy, please,
it’s really me! I’m not dead; I swear to God, I’m not dead!
Just listen to me, please!”

Lucy took several
deep breaths. “You have five minutes, asshole, and then I sic my
cop on you.”

The urge to
disconnect returned with a vengeance. John fought it down and quickly
tried to explain his situation. He knew it was unbelievable,
especially when he explained that he didn’t remember her, but when
he was finished, she was silent. She didn’t rage, didn’t
disconnect. Just remained silent.

“So,” she said,
“I guess I missed the write up.”

That was one
response John didn’t expect. “What?”

“The news story.
I mean, man stuck in coma, believed dead due to government error,
then comes back. This writes itself.”

Something twisted
in John’s gut. There was something in what she said… “No,
there wasn’t anything in the news. I don’t know why, but… I
guess the army didn’t want it out.”

Lucy snorted.
“Last time I checked, the government doesn’t control the media.”

“Last time I
checked, the top news channel is called the AmeriNews Network.”

“Point.” Lucy
suddenly gasped. “My God; that sounded just like one of our old
conversations.”

John sighed. “I
wouldn’t know.”

“John… can I
see you?”

“I don’t have a
car—“

“Mmmm, no. Do
you have video on your phone?”

“Uh, just a
second.” John stood up and looked at the screen. Near the top was
a small black bubble. He gestured to the screen, and saw a stylized
image of a camera appear. He gestured again, then returned to his
seat opposite the screen. “Okay, I’ve got video.”

A moment later
another window appeared on the screen. And there she was, smiling
down at him at a strange angle.

“I think you need
to move your phone a little,” he said.

Her smile faded.
“You don’t look the same.” Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced
away from the phone several times.

He had forgotten,
of course. He was so used to his current face that he had forgotten
that he had once looked different. “It’s really me. I got some
surgery done after… after.”

The fear and anger
left Lucy’s face, but the smile didn’t return. “Oh.”

“So,” John
said, after another awkward silence. “Now you know what’s going
on. The, um, the reason I called you was to find out about you, who
you are. You were obviously a big part of my life, but… well, I
feel kind of like dead weight here. And… and I’m sorry, but I
shouldn’t have called. I just felt I had to, you know? I have a
decade of my life missing, and now I find out I’m missing more and
I just… I lost you. I don’t know what I’ve lost, but it’s
gone. And I’m sorry that I left you.” He fell silent.

“John.” Lucy
covered her mouth, and coughed a few times. “When you died, it
tore me up. You were gone; your family cut me off. And you know
what? I got over it. I’ve lived it off. And you—well; you’ve
got a fresh start on life by the looks of it. And you don’t have
me as baggage. I think if you’d remembered me, we might be able to
try to get back to where we were, but I don’t think it would have
worked. As it is, though… I think we’re free. We’ve got a
clean break, and we can go on without each other.”

Something inside
John unclenched, and he felt a strange peace. “I think that’s
why I called, to hear you say that. The past doesn’t hold me, and
I can live life.”

Lucy smiled.
“Yeah.”

“Just one
question before I disconnect, though. I know you don’t know the
answer, but why do you think I don’t remember you?”

Lucy shrugged.
“Hey, don’t look a gift amnesia in the mouth.”

“Yeah.” John
laughed. “You’re right. So I guess this is goodbye, then. We
go our separate ways now.”

“Yeah.”

They both reached
out to disconnect the call, and then she was gone.

John relaxed into
the couch and sighed. She had given him permission to move on; he was
free. And he felt… nothing. He still didn’t know who this woman
was, and now he didn’t need to.

Maybe he should
call mom and allay her fears: Lucy wouldn’t be returning any time
soon. He was just about to when a ringing tone announced an incoming
call. It was from Lucy.

“Hello, Lucy,”
John said, reconnecting the video.

It wasn’t Lucy; a
young man stared back at him. He was tan, with close cropped hair.
He was also painfully thin, his skull bulging against the confines of
his face.

“Who the fuck are
you?” the man growled.

John wondered
briefly if this was the boyfriend Lucy mentioned. “Um, John Don—“

“I don’t give a
shit. I don’t care if you miss her; you’ve never had her, you
can’t have her. Just stay the fuck away and don’t call
back!” The call disconnected.

So, Lucy didn’t
take it as well as he had thought. She had sicced her cop on him
after all.